Ten Or One Hundred, But Who's Counting?
by LyllithWho
Summary: Ten years here, a hundred years there, and yes, Lydia was counting. They all said that they'd be right back when they left ten years ago. But they never did. Until one day, while she's sitting at home, and someone shows up...And someone gets stabbed.
1. Just a Butter Knife

[Type text]

**I do not own Beetlejuice, or any other supporting characters that may or may not show up later on in the story…**

Taking a photography class was the last thing Lydia Deetz wanted to do with her life, but with needing a professional job, she had no other choice. Sure, she loved taking pictures and creating beautiful art work, but she wanted to be alone when she did. Well, she didn't _want_ to be alone, but most of the time, that's how it was, and she had gotten used to it. Lydia had accepted that she was alone now. Utterly alone.

"…And so, as you can see, lighting is the most important part of a set. It doesn't matter if your filming the uncontrollable world outside or just a self-made still; your lighting needs to be perfect to add that depth and creativity to your work. Class dismissed," The old man in the front of the room waved a hand at the class as they all collected their books and ran from the building.

Lydia was the last one out, taking her time as she walked through the now empty halls of Winter River University. Her black hair blew behind her as she opened the doors and let the warm, humid wind surround her.

_Damn it, _Lydia thought, trying to keep her hair under control. Several times she had considered cutting it all off and not having to deal with the trouble, but every time she would drive to the salon, she would turn back around half-way there. The black wave stuck out in all directions, looking like a living thing that was ready to slit someone's throat.

"God," She muttered, getting into her beaten up black truck. Hitting the steering wheel, she turned the key and sped towards her house, turning on the radio.

_And all the ghosts that are ever gonna haunt me—_

Lydia quickly changed the station.

_Watching me, wanting me, I can feel you pull me down—_

Again, she changed the music.

_The ghost won't leave me alone—_

She went through several more stations before hearing the one song that made her scream in frustration.

_Day-oh! Daylight come and they want to go home!_

"ARGH!" She said as she yelled, crossing the bridge that made her squint her eyes, trying not to see it.

Too many memories that she didn't want to deal with always threw themselves at her as she drove past. And speaking of memories…

The big white house hadn't been remodeled since her parents left it for her when they moved back to New York. Lydia left it as it was, not wanting to ruin what both pairs of her parents had worked hard to create.

Thinking of her parents made her sigh…not her real parents…but her g-g-g. Sigh. Her other parents. They left six years ago. Juno called them and they never came back. Lydia didn't sleep for weeks; she stayed up, waiting for them.

"Just don't think about it," She whispered to herself as she unlocked the front door and stepped inside the dim house. "It never really happened."

The lights were never on anymore, and Lydia had gotten used to the dark. She's been in it for so long.

The refrigerator made groaning noises as she opened it and pulled out a beer. A very strong beer.

This was what happened every night; drive home, get drunk, fall asleep, wake up, feel like shit, go to class, drive home…blah blah blah…

She never thought about the fact that she was throwing her life away…and throwing beer bottles at little kids that came by…and she probably never would.

Sitting down on the large chair in her living room, (the chair wasn't THAT big, but compaired to her tiny frame…) and took a long gulp from her bottle. She learned how to drink from the best.

"Damn remote, where the hell did I put it?" Lydia mumbled, looking around her lazily. The little black object was found next to her, and with a few grumbled swears, was used to turn on the large flat screen on the wall.

"…_And in other news, the tragic death of—"_

Click!

"…_Wheel…of…Fortune!"'_

Click!

"…_You get the BEST of both worlds!"_

Click!

"…_With a chance of rain in the evening…"_

Click!

"_MOVE THAT BUS!"_

Click!

"Oh, come on!" She yelled, throwing her beer cap at the screen. The loud ring of the phone from the kitchen made her jump, "Damn!" Running into the dark room, she pulled up the receiver. "What?"

There was no answer at first, and she considered hanging up. But, making Lydia stagger back for a moment, someone replied. The voice was quiet, but easily recognized. It spoke quickly and in one small breath. Lydia's eyes fluttered closed.

"_Babes."_

Without thinking, Lydia threw the phone across the room, screaming. It hit the blue wall with a nasty crash.

"NO! YOU'RE NOT REAL!" Her voice broke as she ran over to the destroyed object, stomping and jumping on the pieces. "NO!" Beginning to cry, she pulled a small butter knife from the counter next to her, stabbing the jumbled mess. "W-WHY WON'T YOU STAY _DEAD!?" _

A few sparks flew from the pile as she sobbed and screamed, "DIE!"

"_Babes."_

Her screaming cut off and she looked behind her, gasping. There was no one there. No one there, no one using that amazing voice, no one there to hurt her.

Standing up, Lydia held onto the small knife tightly, looking around her. "Where are you?" She whispered, spitting through her teeth. She stepped into the hallways silently, quietly watching where she stepped, trying to be silent. The knife shook in her hands, and she could barely see through her tears.

"_Babes."_

"WHERE ARE YOU!?" She screamed, jumping at the sound of her cracking voice. "STAY AWAY FROM ME!"

A rattling noise made her look to the side. The attic.

"I don't want to go up there," Lydia whispered, shaking her as she stepped towards the stairs anyway. "Don't make me go up there!" She said, louder and more forcefully.

"_Babes."_

Every step on the way up made a moaning sound, causing Lydia to jump every time. The door wasn't locked, and she knew it wouldn't be. It was never locked. But she never went up there. That's where she put everything.

That's where she _hid _everything.

The door opened with a loud creek, slamming against the wooden wall behind it. It was dark, darker than the rest of the house, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, Lydia was afraid of the dark.

Everything was covered with sheets. Designer sheets. Two of them had holes in the middle. All of them were worth three hundred dollars, but Lydia didn't care.

"_Babes."_

It was louder now, and her hand was sweating around the knife. Something in the room shook, and it only took the length of a heartbeat to figure out what it was.

Broken, stained, and rusting, Lydia's old mirror sat in the very back of the attic, talking to her.

"_Babes."_

Like a ruined record, Lydia's breaths came in and out with terrible gasps and sobs. "You're not real. You're dead. You're dead."

Stalking towards the mirror, she reached her free hand up to grab the sheet. The two holes in the center stared at her, daring her to pull it off.

With the knife held high, she pulled the mirror's cover off, screaming as the white wave flew from the mirror and onto the wooden ground.

Nothing.

With another scream, she grabbed the sides and threw it to the ground with a crash. "You. Are. Not. RE—" Lydia gasped as something knocked her to the ground. _Someone_ that swore in response. The butter knife, that now rested in Lydia's thigh, suddenly felt like it was much bigger than a small kitchen utensil.

"WHAT THE _HELL, _Babes_!?" _The figure next to her screamed, "Why the hell were you carrying a _fucking_ kitchen knife!?"


	2. By Order of the King and Queen

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**Here we go…**

The small pool of blood around Lydia was growing bigger by the second, but she couldn't scream. The man beside was looking over her wound, debating on whether or not to pull the knife out.

"You okay, Babes?" Beetlejuice looked up at her with his shadowed, dark eyes.

When Lydia didn't speak, he continued, "Can you even fucking talk, Lyds? Damn," He shook his head in frustration.

She had stopped crying, but her breathing was still as heavy and uneven. Her eyes never left his face, even though she was going to pass out from loss of blood.

"I gotta get you the hell outta here, Babes!" Beetlejuice whispered loudly, slipping his hands under her and standing up with Lydia in his arms. "Fuck, I hope they didn't follow me here…"

Even though her thoughts were nothing but a hopeless mess, she managed to feel confused. "_They?"_

"No time to explain, Babes. We gotta run," And with that, he jumped off of the ground and phased through the ceiling, into the twilight sky.

"Where are we running?" Lydia whispered, her eyelids falling.

"Stay awake, Babes, don't die on me!" He yelled in her ear, trying to keep her awake. "We need you alive!"

"_We?" _She lipped the words, having no energy as blood fell to the ground far beneath them.

"You remember Adam and Babs, right Lyds?! They need you! Don't you _dare _die before I can get you too them, got it?!"

"Adam…Barbra…?" Lydia's voice was louder now, and her eyes snapped open. "Where are you taking me?" She asked, looking up at him. In her eyes, there were about ten of him, and she felt the need to throw up.

"Back to the Neitherworld, Babes, we gotta get there soon—"

"_Though I k-know I should b-be wary, still I venture somewhere scary. Ghostly haunt-t-t-tings I turn lose…Beetlejuice…"_ She lost her breath.

"That's one, Babes!"

"_Beetlejuice…"_

"Come on, Lyds! One more! Don't die on me, dammit!" He shook her as her eyes closed with one last breath.

"_Beetlejuice!"_

The air around them grew cold as death, and the orange sky faded to black and green.

And Lydia wasn't breathing.

"Lydia honey? Can you hear me, sweetie?" Barbra Maitland tried to wake the sleeping girl, but her efforts were in vain. "Oh Adam, what can I do? She's not responding…"

"Don't worry, Barbra," Her husband comforted her, placing his hand on their daughter's forehead, feeling it's hotness. "Either way, she'll be with us again."

"But she's still so young, Adam!" The woman cried, tears filling her eyes as she listened to Lydia's soft breathing.

"Honey, we've been gone for a while; she's not a child anymore." Adam, sighing, removed his hand and hugged Barbra, kissing her cheek.

"Twenty-three next week, Adam. She's barely an adult! Look at her face; I can still see our little girl!" The dead woman began to cry, shaking in her husband's arms.

The small room became very crowded as Beetlejuice entered the scene. The door shut quietly behind him, and he walked over, sighing as he took a seat next to Lydia's bed.

"How is she, Adam?" He asked in an angered monotone.

"The infection in her leg moved to up through her blood stream, but I think the fever is going down." The man took off his glasses for a moment, "The knife came out easily. It's a good thing you didn't pull it out, Beetle."

"Good for me," He said, running his hand through Lydia's long black hair. "She sure has grown."

"Don't get any ideas!" Barbra yelled, tears running down her face.

"I'm the one who fucking saved the girl, so don't you dare give me grief!" The poltergeist's voice began to rise slightly, but he fell silent as the girl next to him stirred.

"Where…are…you?" She mumbled, her eyelids shaking. "Why…w-wo…you…s-s-stay…dead?"

"Lydia!? Lydia, honey, can you hear me?" Barbra smiled brightly for the first time in a long time, standing up and pushing the two men aside so she could see the girl. "Lydia?!"

"Barb-b-bra?" Her voice was barely a whisper, but could be heard by the ghost woman. "Why…? Hmmm…where?"

"I'm right here now, Lydia, honey." Barbra's tears were happy now. "Please open your eyes."

The dark brown irises hand darkened over time, and the shadows around her eyes did too. She looked so tired and worn. She could easily be mistaken for a corpse; she was so pale.

"Oh, Lydia." Barbra smiled and hugged her daughter. "You've grown up!"

Lydia tried to sit up, but fell back on the torn pillow with a grimace of pain. "What's wrong with my leg?"

"Oh, nothing, honey," Barbra lied. "You're absolutely fine!"

"Then why do I feel like—" a nasty cough interrupted her sentence. "What's happening to me?"

"Just a small fever, Lydia." Adam said, leaning over his wife to smile at the girl. "You'll be fine."

"How did I get here?" Lydia said, her eyes closing.

"Well, he—"Adam looked to the side, and then behind him. "Where did he go?"

It was dark in the ally where he was hiding, and the air was filled with the smell of blood and tobacco. The only the light in the lonely darkness came from his cigarette's dim fire, and it wasn't enough to see the smoke that floated from it.

"Fuck," Beetlejuice muttered, shaking his head.

That was Lydia. Lyds. She was back. He had _his _Babes back. The one thing that he missed from that goddamn breathers' world was now his again…He didn't have to miss her anymore. They could be best friends again; friends without a fucking care in the world.

Then why did he feel so _guilty?!_

Sure he left…but that wasn't his fault! That was all on that no-good fucker Juno…

_It took me a minute to figure out where the hell I was, but when I saw the bitch…_

"_You!" I yelled at the old bag, standing up from my chair and leaning over her desk. "Who they fuck do you think you are!? I was a little busy at the moment, Juno!"_

"_Oh, shut up, you stupid poltergeist! It wasn't my decision to bring you here!" She yelled, taking a deep breath. "I need your assistance—"_

"_Not likely, bitch." I spat, turning around to leave. But the tall dark figure in the doorway stopped me. I swallowed, looking up. "Oh, it's just you." I laughed, pulling out a smoke._

_The Prince looked down on me, but I really didn't care. "I trust my Lydia is doing well, Mr. Juice?" _

"You're _Lydia, You're Lowness?" I replied, laughing loudly at him. "I wasn't aware that she belonged to anyone."_

"_Oh, shut up you fool, this is serious!" Prince screamed at me, stepping forward. "To whoever she belongs, dearest Lydia is in grave danger!"_

_That made my eyebrows jump off my face, "Excuse me, Prince?"_

"_You heard me well, sir!" Vince pointed one long, thin, pale finger at me, "Because of our kind, that girl is in grave danger!"_

"_From what, Mr. Sappy Pants?" I yelled back, floating up so I was taller than the kid. "What did I do now?"_

"_Surprisingly, this trouble had nothing to do with you and your filth." He said, seeming to calm down._

"_Hey, take me as I am, Prince of Mood Swings!" I spat, shaking my head. _

_Vince sighed, placing his long face in his hands. "Beetlejuice, you have to help me! And please understand that none of this is my choice."_

"_None of what?"_

_One of the creeps standing next to him held out a long, rotten sheet of parchment for me to read._

"_You actually think I'm gonna waste my time reading that fucking thing?" I chuckled, pushing the thing away._

_Grumbling, the pink skinned man read out loud; _

By order of the High King and Queen,

All ghosts, spirits, poltergeists, demons, ghouls, undead beings, and corpses are to return to the Neitherworld immediately. No exceptions.

War has been declared on the southern Neitherfalls and all ghosts, spirits, poltergeists, demons, ghouls, undead beings, and corpses are required to put their best ectoplasm forward and help their grand empire along in this war.

Hope that you are well,

King Victor and Queen Victoria

"_You're FUCKING kidding me!" I screamed at the saddest excuse for a prince._

"Damn," Beetlejuice muttered, releasing himself from the flashback. A war. Yeah, right. "It's like fucking Judgment Day over here."

He watched the street in front of him. The street lights were all turned off and no one was around. No one was ever around. They were all hiding. Everyone who was smart was hiding somewhere where the Royal Family couldn't find them.

"Yeah, all the smart shitters." He chuckled, looking up at the green sky and taking in a deep breath. "All the lucky ones."

He could tell that, in time, his luck would run out to. And when that happened, God knows what will happen to his babes.

"Where are we, Barbra?" Lydia asked, hugging her knees to her chest as she leaned on her mother's shoulder.

"Well, we're in Juno's house, honey." The ghost woman said, trying to keep her daughter warm as she wrapped her arms around her. The small room was very cold, and the fact that Lydia was sitting with a ghost didn't help. "We're hiding in Juno's basement. Where they can't find us," Barbra got quiet and shook her head. "It's late, Lydia, you should get some rest."

"I'm not tired, Mom." She said, looking up at the ghost woman's eyes. "Why are you crying?"

Barbra quickly tried to wipe the tears away, "It's nothing."

"It doesn't look like nothing." The goth said, sitting up tall and looking her mother straight in the eyes. "What's wrong?"

"That," Barbra said, smiling. "You've grown up. And Adam and I are running out of time to be with you." A few small sobs broke through her chest.

"What do you mean? It's only been t-t-ten years," Lydia had trouble talking about time.

"No, honey, no." The woman shook her head, "It's been a hundred years."


End file.
